The Clone Wars: Brothers
by ParkerFallon
Summary: CT-9203 is ready to take on the galaxy. Fresh from Kamino and assigned to the 5th Armored Brigade, he and the rest of his company are sent to the front-line world of Farquar to fight the Separatist Alliance Army from taking the world, they find out how hard this war will become, and how they will have to remain brothers through it all.
1. Prolouge

Republic Star Destroyer _Savior_, three hours

after the First Battle of Geonosis

_I feel numb. That's the best word to describe what is going on here, right now, The raging, the anger, the grief..._

_It's all over now. All I can feel now, is numb. _

_The Jedi Generals go through the ranks, acting as if thousands of troops hadn't just died under their command. I wonder if any of them feel responsible, or if they even now we're living, sentient, human beings, just like half of them are. I doubt it, but some of the others are beginning to take off their helmets. That's good, I suppose. Show them that we aren't just organic droids. _

_I honestly doubt it'll work, but it's worth a shot. _

_ One Jedi, one called Stass Allie, walks over to me. Her eyes are sympathetic, but unsure. I guess that's what they would be feeling, if the command of three million troopers was just slapped into your lap. I certainly feel that way. _

"_Commander" the Allie says softly. _

_That's right. I'm a Clone Commander, CC-3323, of the 5__th__ Armored Legion. I barely even remember that; my troops are all dead, so who or what do I command?_

"_Commander, I'm General Allie," she said, sitting down on the floor in front of me. _

"_I'm here to heal you, Commander. What injuries do you have?" _

_So she was a healer. I could use healing. _

_ "No injuries, ma'am," I reply gruffly. "Just...fatigue." _

_The General doesn't buy my story. _

"_Commander, do you have a name?" _

_The question surprises me. No one has ever asked that. I've been just called Commander, or Two-Three. _

"_No, ma'am." _

_She looked slightly troubled, but pressed on. _

"_You are scared, nervous, and...grieved, Commander. You need rest," she tells me. _

"_How...do you know?" I ask, disturbed. _

"_I sensed it." _

_I don't reply. _

_ "Here," she murmured, pulling a little pile-like shape from a pouch in her belt. "This is a sleeper pill. It will let you rest for as long as you need." _

_She places the pill in my palm. _

_It's an order. I have to obey. _

_But I hesitate, my hand halfway to my mouth, held in the air. _

"_General...I'm a commander. Who, or what, am I commanding now?" _

_It's an impulsive question, I know. She can't be expected to know all this, just three or four hours after the battle. _

"_I don't know, Commander," she sighs, and she stands. "But don't loose hope." _

_Hope. Such a great word, with such an inspiring definition, but..._

_Where does it get you? I had hope that my battalion would stay alive through this battle, that we would return victorious. _

_Look at us now. All dead, but me. _

_I decide I won't hope. All it can do, is get crushed in the end. _

"_Sir, yes sir," I reply, taking off my helmet, and popping the pill into my mouth. "I'll try."_


	2. Chapter 1

Republic Star Destroyer _Firefight, _Hangar bay,

61 days after the First Battle of

Geonosis

"Well, well, well. A whole company of shinies."

CT-9203 looked up from cleaning his blaster and saw his new Commander.

This guy had an instant don't-mess-with-me-rookie impression. He decided he wouldn't.

"So, speak up, rookie!" the commander snapped.

Yeah, he wasn't in a very good mood, either, 03 thought.

"Name and number, soldier!"

03 complied, setting his DC-15 blaster- his decee- down on the empty ammo crate he was sitting on.

"CT-9203, sir!" 03 barked in response.

The commander rolled his unamused eyes, then leaned in, right into his face.

"I said," he growled. "Name!"

03 glanced for a moment at two other troopers, CT-3462 and CT-3829. They were grinning. He glared before turning his attention back to the commander.

"03, sir!" 03 replied, and the commander stepped back, unsatisfied.  
"No names then, shiny," he huffed. "I'll have to think of one for you. And get that hair cut to regulation length!" The green-armored commander stomped away to another group of clones, _kama_ swinging. How the commander got a hold of ARC trooper gear, he didn't know, at all.

03 picked up his decee and walked slowly over to Six-Two and Two-Nine, his face reddish.

"So, Oh-Three," Two-Nine said, leaning back on a crate that had been left open. "Making friends with command?"

"Can it, Chit-Chat," Oh-Three said, slumping down beside Six-Two. Two-Nine made a mock-hurt face.

"So insensitive!" he said, imitating the voice of a Coruscanti female.

Six-Two rolled his eyes and leaned over from his crate to smack the newly-named Chit-Chat. He dodged. "Miss," he told Six-Two triumphantly.

"Aptly named," he muttered as he settled back down to load his rifle. Oh-Three sighed and pulled out a pack of dry rations. It had a bit more taste than what they were given on Kamino: tasteless cubes of condensed protein, and shakes of the same type.

Chit-Chat hummed the tune of a song, _Vode An_, a Mandalorian song that the "white-jobs" as the Commandos and ARC's referred to them as, all learned.

"Maybe we should have called you Songbird," Six-Two grumbled as he finished working on his rifle.

Chit-Chat looked up. "And maybe you could be called-"

He was cut off as the commander, who had taken his place standing on a crate identical to the ones they were resting at, called for attention. All the troopers scrambled to stand; some had armor plates, some fully armored, some with helmets off, but everyone's face, even Chit-Chat's was turned to a grim line.

"I am CC-3323, of the 5th Armored Brigade!" the commander announced. "And you, lads, are Hunter Company of the 5th. I suppose I should welcome you, but I have more important things to do that deal with rookies." He said this all with a sullen look, as if this was the last thing he would want to do.

Commander Two-Three continued. "We are embarking onto the front-line world of Farquar. The Seps have invaded, so they sent us to get 'em out. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!" the whole of Hunter Company barked, and Two-Three seemed pleased, at least for now.

"We depart in twenty-four hours. Get ready. Eat. Sleep. Do whatever. But be down in the hangar in twenty-two hours! Dismissed!"

Immediately, the troops broke rank. Oh-Three, Six-Two, and Chit-Chat, picked up their weapons and helmets and left them on the crates, except Six-Two, who insisted that he leave it on.

Oh-Three sighed as they proceeded out of the hangar bay and into the corridor that led to the mess hall. He could feel his stomach rumbling under his armor, and he hoped the mess had something besides rations. Chit-Chat, as usual, could not and would not stop chattering. He wished he brought his helmet. Six-Two was right; he could block out the noise of Chit-Chat, and he wouldn't know the difference.

They reached the mess, a once-pristine white room which had now been splattered with sauce, grease, and sweat from constant use. It smelled heavenly; Oh-Three glanced over at the menu, and decided on nerf steak, today's special. The line was long. Oh-Three felt like the whole company had turned out for the food.

He tuned into Chit-Chat's conversation. It was about every female on Coruscant he'd pick up once they got leave. Boring.

He tuned back into his own thoughts

Their turn in line finally came around. Six-Two ordered a berry salad, Chit-Chat took a bowl of chaka noodles, and Oh-Three took the last round of steak. The guy behind him glared, and he gave an apologetic glance down at the food. He followed Six-Two to a smaller table in the corner of the mess.

They talked little as they ate, eating the meals slowly and savoring the taste.

Oh-Three remembered his first time eating at the mess. It was exotic. That was the word to describe it best. The flavors, the smells, the textures; they had never had any food like it.

Chit-Chat finished first, then stood.

"I'm going to get some rest," he told them, yawning. Six-Two smirked.

"Tired of talking?" he mocked.

The other clone rolled his eyes, then turned to leave the mess.

They made little conversation. Six-Two had never been into talking much, and Oh-Three had no one else to talk to, anyway. He stuck where he could.

Republic Star Destroyer Firefight, hangar bay,

the next day

Commander Grizzly, the company had unanimously agreed that was a fitting name for CC-3323, paced in front of the fully assembled and fully armored Hunter Company. His helmet was tucked in the crook of his arm, and his face was as steely as ever. Oh-Three stood between Chit-Chat and another trooper, CT-7393. They looked ahead, sharing the same expression of nervousness and determination to please this guy. The AT-TE walkers loomed behind them, and he could tell without looking that the clones behind him were as scared as hell about those thing stepping on them. He shared that fear.

"Hunter Company!" Grizzly growled out. "In twenty minutes, we depart for Farquar. I will assume all of you studied the system's database, and know that we _are not and will not be pulling out._ Do I make myself clear, rookies?"

They nodded in agreement.

He scowled. "Alright, break up into your platoons and get into the gunships. Move out!"

Oh-Three looked around for the rest of his squadron. The plan was always that they found their squads, and then they formed the platoon. His squad was Squad Eight of Hunter Company, Fang Squad, made of himself, Six-Two, CT-9263, CT-3234, CT-3329, who they called Blinds, CT-7382, and a couple others. Their sergeant was CT-3782, Joss. He had the green striping of the 5th Brigade, and a grin that wasn't suppressed by nearly anything.

"Okay, boys, we ready to go?" Joss asked, scanning them. "Alright, lets meet up with the others, then."

Fang Squad trooped through the hangar to find the other squads in their platoon, called Bravo, Eta, and Indigo. Oh-Three spotted Chit-Chat with his squad, Eta. He nodded, bucket on for once. He could be serious at times.

The platoon formed ranks, Oh-Three on the end line of his squad, marching onto the LAAT/i, the larty, as they liked to call it, next to Vun of Bravo Squad. They didn't speak to each other as the boarded the ship. Grizzly boarded the gunship in front of them, and placed on his helmet. For a split second, he thought he saw worry, and fear etched into his commander's face. But whatever it was, it was gone a moment later.

The larties lifted into the air and out of the hangar bay of the _Firefight _and into the void of space outside Farquar's atmosphere. The ships whizzed down, through the air.

Gutter, the platoon's lieutenant, let loose a laugh. All of them but Six-Two seemed capable of it in a tight situation.

"What is it, sir?" Joss asked, leaning forward and clutching the handgrip on the hatch's ceiling.

"This reminds me of training for no-grav!" the lieutenant replied over the secure comlink.

The trooper next to Oh-Three, from his squad, Sev, let out a grunt. "Like we're ever going to actually use no-grav," he muttered.

Oh-Three nudged him. "If the gunships get shot from under us, then we might have to, Sev."

The pilot joined the conversation. "Cruel irony, Oh-Three. Want to see what's happening to our buddies behind us?"

The pilot pressed a button in his helmet and shared his vision with the platoon.

It was cruel irony.

The larty behind them was on fire, it's engines breathing smoke into the airless vacuum of space.

"Stang," Joss breathed, clenching his fist. "We're gonna loose a whole kriffing platoon before we hit ground!"

"Can we do anything about it?" One of Indigo's men, Sek, asked, leaning forward.

Grizzly's voice came over the comms. "We can't do anything about it, shiny," he growled. "Now pilot, get us to ground before we lose another platoon.

There were murmurs of dissent, but the remaining five gunships pulled forwards, and Oh-Three cut off comms from the smoking gunship as it exploded in a ball of flame.


	3. Chapter 2

**Republic Gunship Squadron, **

**Atmosphere of planet Farquar**

Oh-Three gripped the handrail of the larty as the five gunships entered Farquar's atmosphere. There had been little talking after the last gunship had it's engine failure; that's what Grizzly said it was, anyway. He had a different prediction, but he kept it to himself.

"Pilots!" Grizzly called over the comlinks. "I want you to get us down, now! Intel is reporting civvy's at the RV point!"

_Civilians. _Oh-Three thought. He had heard from clones that had been on different deployments that having civvy's involved in a battle was bad. Things got messier and bloodier trying to protect them. Stang, he wasn't looking forward to this.

The LAAT/i lurched forwards as the pilot flew low to the ground, looking for a good landing zone. Joss turned to his squadron. "Okay, boys. Get your HUD's calibrated, I'm getting Seppie cannons nearby. I'll transmit that to Grizzly, then we can insert."

"Excuse me?" the commander's sharp voice cut in. "Grizzly?"

Oh-Three stifled a laugh, and Six-Two let out a huff, close enough to a giggle.

Joss clicked his teeth in annoyance. "Sorry, _Commander_," he said, and he could tell the sergeant was rolling his eyes from the tone of voice.

"Calm down, boys," the pilot said. "It's not the end of the world that you have a wonderful nickname, Commander."

"You're lucky I'm not in your gunship."

"I'm sure I am."

Chit-Chat activated a secure comm channel. "That pilot's got spunk, boys," he said, chuckling.

"Grizzly's gonna rip his throat out one day," he added.

Oh-Three reached over a few aisles of troopers and smacked Chit-Chat upside the head. "No comment, Chitter."

He batted Oh-Three's hand away and pressed a button on the side of his helmet, switching back to the main channel.

Grizzly's voice came over the comm, his voice a growl. "Stop yapping and get ready. Gutter, your boys are inserting first. Joss, I want you and your squad up in front. Drizzle," he said, addressing Indigo's sergeant. "I want you behind them. Wiyo, take Eta and find cover. Lion, you and Bravo get your mortars and rockets in position, and circle around the larties. Clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!" The whole platoon responded.

"Good." He switched to the next platoon's comms.

Joss turned. "Alright, cannon-fodder. Let's do this."

**Farquar, Juros Region,**

Farquar was a jungle world, with lush forests and diverse wildlife. There were a few cities, small, but largely populated. Oh-Three turned his comm to open as they landed.

"Let's go! Move it!" _GO_!" Gutter shouted as the LAAT/i's hatch opened. His platoon streamed out, and Oh-Three's gut tightened. This was his first deployment, ever. Would he survive? No, he couldn't think that way. He focused on the task ahead.

Six-Two was running beside him. "So far, no tinnies," he grumbled. "Maybe this was a fake mission."

Oh-Three shrugged as they caught up with Joss and the others. Joss was giving orders, none of his good humor showing now. "Ril, Chaw, Oh-Three, and Six-Three, I want you boys covering me, Ton, and Six-Two. Juol, Watt, prep grenades," he commanded.

"Copy that," Six-Two muttered and uncliped his decee off his belt. "Good luck, Oh-Three."

Oh-Three nodded and loaded his rifle. He followed Chaw up to a big wurok tree and knelt down on one knee to sight up.

"Good lord, it's busy today, isn't it?" Ril murmured as he placed his E-web cannon on it's stand. There were no droids, no sounds but the sounds of clones preparing for an attack, and the usual jungle noises.

There was a repeated whirring sound that irritated Oh-Three. He supposed it was a Can-cell, big dragonfly's that had originated on Kashyyyk and somehow migrated to different worlds. This was one of those worlds.

But it sounded...metallic. Not natural buzzing.

"Sarge," he said, comming Joss. "You hear that buzzing?"

He saw Joss look up, several meters away from him.

"Yeah, I do," the sergeant replied, sounding anxious. "Not natural, and not one of ours. I think it's Sep."

Six-Three, the other trooper that stood next to Oh-Three, made a gulp. "Sep? Droids or..."

The booming rumble of a proton cannon shook the tree's sending ripples of vibration through the ground and knocking everything from it's place. Ril scrambled to re-stand his E-web, cursing, and Grizzly's voice was shrill. "Get _DOWN_! Stang, GET DOWN, NOW!"

Chit-Chat's tone was unmistakably scared. "What the kriffing hell can scare Grizzly, of all people?" he asked, pressing up to the thick trunk of a tree. The others did the same, some covering their heads and neck with their arms.

"Proton cannon," Wiyo, Eta squad's sergeant reported.

"Stang," Six-Two hissed, and he rarely ever cursed.

The missile rammed into a fleeing gunship. Fire engulfed it, and it spun away, into the trees.

Oh-Three cringed. That was the gunship that had transported his platoon down. There was no way the pilot could have survived. He felt angry, now. The Seps had killed a brother, even if he hadn't known him that well. He wanted to avenge him, by destroying that cannon.

He vowed that he personally would.


	4. Chapter 3

**Planet Farquar, Juros Region, **

A company of droids marched out of the woods, unscratched by the crash. Their E-5 blasters were primed and ready. The leader of the company, a battle droid commander, shouted orders. Oh-Three didn't hear them, but sighted up. He would take out this kirffing droid, and that would be the start...

He squeezed the trigger and a blue shaft whizzed out of the barrel. He didn't stop, or wait for orders. All he wanted to do was kill, and kill, and kill.

"Whoa, Oh-Three!" Chit-Chat's voice cut into his thoughts of rage. "Calm down. Joss said no firing, smart-one."

He lowered his rifle, and found himself panting. "How...how many tinnies did I take out?" he asked.

Ril glanced over. "About six of 'em, headshot."

"Headshot?" he asked. "Is that a nickname?" Joss nudged him.

"Yeah, it is now," he said, amused. "I wonder where Grizzly is."

"Joss!" Wiyo of Eta squad commed. "I lost my men. I know Chit-Chat is with your boys, but the others..."

Joss scanned the area. "I don't see them, Wiyo. Not near me."

Headshot could see Wiyo from his position behind the tree. The sergeant was frantically looking around. He dropped into a crawl and began to shift through the thick undergrowth.

"I'm going to help him, sarge," Chit-Chat told Joss, dropping into a prostrate position and crawling over to where his sergeant was.

"Smacks of desperation," Six-Two grumbled. "They can't be under all those plants, can they? They were probably incinerated by the heat of the blast."

Chaw hissed. "Always pessimistic, are we, Six-Two?"

"No, I'm being logical."

There was a long pause. Headshot could see what his friend was saying, but that didn't mean he liked it.

"Another cannon, incoming," Ril said, leaning on the tree.

The whirring had started up again, and he knew that the rumbling was soon to come.

"Wait,wait," Sev said, pulling a pair of macrobinoculars from his belt and used them to stare into the trees. "Stang, Wiyo! Get back! Chit-Chat! Sniper!"

The word _sniper _set the clones in motion. He stared up and saw a shade in the low branches, climbing down from the tree and into the woods. Headshot's HUD told him that the sniper was still in the area.

Ril sighted up the E-web, Six-Two muttered and cocked his rifle, while he and Chaw sighted up, scanning the trees.

"Wiyo," Joss ordered, slipping a plasma cartridge into his DC-15, "You and Chit-Chat, stand _very slowly_. Got it?"

"Copy that."

The two clones began to stand cautiously. "I don't see the kriffing sniper on my scanners," Chit-Chat hissed. "Are you sure?"

Sev curled his fingers around his blaster. "Absolutely. It's like flash training at Tipoca."

"Is...is he gone?" Wiyo asked, sounding scared. Headshot had never seen the hard sergeant show fear in training. But that, of course, was training.

"Nope," Joss said. "I think I've got him...stand by."

The did, and it felt like a long moment before Joss squeezed the trigger. The blue laser whizzed out of the rifle and thumped into something- no someone- behind the tree. There was a loud scream of pain, and a yellow bolt shot out from behind the tree.

No more shots came.

"Wiyo!" Joss screamed as the yellow laser slammed into the sergeant's temple. They heard an agonized grunt through the comms, and Wiyo crumpled to the ground, smoke rising from the helmet.

"SARGE!" Chit-Chat screamed as he sprinted to the fallen figure of Eta Squad's leader. Headshot abandoned his post to get to his brother, Six-Two and Chaw following.

Chit-Chat shook Wiyo's limp arm, cursing and hissing. "Come one, sarge! Get up! Get _up_! Wiyo!" Chaw, the medic of his squad, unclipped his scanner and bacta patch from his belt. He moved the scanner over the fallen troopers body, looking for injury. He muttered, "Stang," and looked up.  
"Critical damage to the brain. We'd need a med-center, and by the time we go him to one, he'd be dead. I'm so sorry, Chit," he reported, his voice full of sorrow and anger.

"What?" Chit-Chat asked, his voice barely a whisper. "He's...dead?" He pulled off his helmet, revealing horrified eyes. "No," Chaw managed to say, his voice trembling. "He's going to die. In a few minutes..."

Headshot stepped back, eyes wide. He was panting. _How?! _He thought. This wasn't the first casualty of the battle, or even this war.

It was still shocking.

Commander Grizzly's snap was enough to shake the troopers out of their grief. "What the stang is going on over there? We took out that cannon before it fired the second time. You're supposed to be up here with us."

He was right; Smoke was rising from the area of the proton cannon. They hadn't even heard the explosion. That was...odd. They must have been so wrapped up in the moment.

"Sorry, Commander," Joss was the first to reply. "We encountered some Seps, and Eta is mostly gone, sir."

There was a crackle of static. "Very well, then," Grizzly said, his voice almost, almost, compassionate. "But I'm transmitting coordinates to you, Joss. Come on. Gutter's up here, with Indigo and Bravo."

Joss nodded, and cut comms. "Come on, boys. Let's go," he ordered softly, walking over to Ril and began to help him take apart the E-web.

Headshot went slowly to the tree where he had left his blaster. He picked it up and checked the ammo; full. Good. He shouldered a pack full of rations and ammo from the ground and began to push forwards. Sev and Six-Two fell in beside him.

"You okay, _ner'vod_?" Six-Two asked, using the Mando'a word _vode_, brother. _Brother. _They would need to be brothers to survive this, and the mission had barely begun.

"Yeah. Fine," Headshot mumbled. He wasn't. Seeing someone that had been raised with you, someone who had lead you, and become your friend, just get shot in front of you was not fine. And especially the fact that Wiyo was still alive, and no one could do anything to save him. Chaw was probably feeling worse, though. He had made the choice to leave Wiyo. What would that guilt feel like?

Joss soon overtook them, surprisingly fast for a guy running with full body armor and part of an E-web strapped to his back. They all followed more slowly, trudging through fallen vines and leaves. They crunched annoyingly under their feet, and Headshot was tempted to mute his helmet volume. He decided against that, just in case more cannons or other dangers were near and could not be seen.

Smoke drifted through the thick trees and clouded the T-visors of the clones. "Switch to infrared," Ril said, tapping the side of his helmet to switch on the sensor.

They did, and moved on, silent, even under their helmet comms. No one wanted to be the first to move on, leave Wiyo behind, and forget him. That was what would happen if one of the shattered the silence.

The smoke began to thicken. Even with infrared scope's thermal sensor, too much would render it useless. Joss broke the silence. "Alright, boys," he said quietly. "The commander's coordinates are nearby. Here we go." He marched forwards, followed by the others.

Headshot scanned through the list of objectives for the mission to take his mind off the situation _One whole squad dead_. First, they had already done: Take out a Sep cannon emplacement. Second: There was a Confederacy supply base that had been located in their sector. They had to take it out, and secure all the resources they could. That would be hard enough, but with a whole squad confirmed dead and probably more, from Grizzly's side...The whole thing would be suicide. They'd attack, and die trying. That was best-case scenario, if the mission kept on it's current path.

They found the source of the smoke. It was a smoldering heap of mechanical parts and durasteel plating in a large clearing, with four platoons circling it, some setting up camp and meals, while others where loading ammo and checking supplies.

They spotted the commander in his green armor from across the clearing. He was inspecting a small circular crate that had been converted into a soup bowl by one of the lieutenants, Tirle. Both of the clones looked up. Tirle nodded in greeting and stood, while Grizzly gave them a scowl and came over to Joss. "So, sergeant," he said gruffly. "You made it." The lieutenant walked over to stand next to the commander. "There's some soup if you boys like," he said, glancing down at his makeshift bowl. "The local wildlife makes for good meat." His tone seemed sympathetic, and Headshot could only stare at the food. _Food. _When had Wiyo's last meal been? Before they had departed? Before they had gathered in the hangar, at least twenty-four hours ago? Simple things like this made him feel sick. It made him feel worse, knowing that the men who had died would never do these routine, normal tasks ever again.

Tirle offered the bowl to Six-Two, who declined. Headshot did as well, so Sev accepted it and ate slowly. He sat down on the grassy forest floor, leaning against a crate. Chit-Chat sat down next to him, and Six-Two across, recalibrating his HUD. Only hours ago, they had sat together like this, carefree and unscarred by war. _War. _In the two months he had been away from Kamino, Headshot had watched the HNN, HoloNews Network, and seen wait their reporters had told the civilians about the clones: That they were unbreakable, hard, and invincible organic droids, completely happy with their lot in life. He might have thought so too, a few hours ago.

Now, it was different. This war was _personal_.


	5. Interlude One

**Interlude **

Clone CC-2232's Officer's log,

Hunter Company Camp,

Twenty-Seven hours into the

Farquar invasion,

_ Stang, I feel horrible. These men have already lost their brothers, their best friends and closest pals. I suppose this is war. But this war shouldn't have been brought so hard onto their shoulders. _

_I feel sorry for what's his name? Chit-Chat. He was so lively and full of energy back on the ship; losing his squad was probably a hard blow. He won't discuss anything. Not even females, a habit that I found so annoying before we deployed. His buddies aren't so great, either. Headshot won't eat. He won't talk.I can't blame him. He saw a comrade that he had known for ten years get shot in front of him, and the medic couldn't do anything. Wiyo probably still isn't alive. I wish I could tell him that. But it'll bring them all back to the point that they are all trying to leave behind them. _

_ And then there's Six-Two. Logical, wise-cracking, loyal, hard-working...I see myself in him. He is the only one who can come out of this with some of his old personality still intact. But it will be scarred, twisted, and dark. That's why I suppose I stopped hoping. Because, like him, I see the logical side. The realistic side. The one where no one gets out, and if you do, you're forever a different man. _

_Yeah, he's the one I feel for the most. He can feel my pain. No one should ever what that pain is like, and no one deserves the pain of a lack of hope. _


	6. Chapter 4

_**Hello, readers! **_

_**It's Parker, and I want to apologize for not posting a new chapter in a while. I was preparing for the holidays at home, with my family, so I had no real time to update. There should be about two or three chapters a week now. Also, I would like to thank LikeCrimsonBloodshed for his continued support of this story.**_

_**Thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, and follows,**_

_**-Parker**_

Hunter Company Camp,

A day after the start of the

Farquar invasion

Six-Two was a scared man. He had seen one of his leaders die right in front of him, with a laser to the brain. That wasn't the scary part, though. The part that he had _accepted_ that death made him afraid. How could he just walk away from a dying comrade and feel no remorse, no anger? All he felt was just a little regret, and the urge to leave the dead and fight on. That was how the Kaminoans had engineered them. He was a model soldier for the Grand Army, and he hated himself for it.

He calibrated the HUD of his helmet as he stared down at the ground. It was boring here, and much to close to Wiyo's corpse for him to be settled. Actually, he decided, he would be much to close until he left the Farquar system. Then he could become calm again.

He set the helmet's mic in place, near the mouth guard just as the commander's voice pulsed through the speakers. "Alright men, listen up. We break camp in ten minutes. Get your gear ready. I'm not waiting for stragglers."

"Sir, yes sir!" the automatic response left their mouths, and every clone in the company stood if they hadn't been already, and began to shove ammo into their decee's, slurp up the rest of the unidentified-animal soup, and take down the makeshift tents that had been constructed the day before.

Six-Two, Headshot, and Chit-Chat began to haul the crates they had been resting on into the giant pile of scrap in the center of the clearing. A small fire had been burning in a crevice between a shard of durasteel and some fractured wires, and they slid the metal crates there. They had been retrieved by the "civilians" at the cannon. According to Gutter, the civvy's were the natives who had chosen allegiance to the Confederacy. So, that was one problem solved: They didn't have to watch out for killing them.

"Come on, lads. Hurry it up, before Grizzly starts to get very annoyed with us," Chit-Chat said as Headshot slid the last crate into the small fire. Six-Two rolled his eyes under his helmet. He could figure out Chit-Chat's abrupt change in personality from depressed and quiet to his old self: He was trying to shake off grief. "Yeah, we're hurrying," Headshot grumbled as he dusted the grit and dirt from his hands. "Let's go," Six-Two said, breaking up an argument before it started. "We're the last ones done." He was right; Commander Grizzly, Gutter, and the other lieutenants had started to organize marching formations for the next leg of the mission, taking out the Seppie supply base. That would be hard. So far, all casualties numbered in seventeen out of one-hundred and forty-four troops. A company was barely adequate to storm a fortress. Less than that was most likely going to end up with all or most of them dead. _Oh well_, he thought. _That's war_.

That was morbid, he berated himself. He couldn't just think like that about dead brothers like they were spoiled meat.

Six-Two, Chit-Chat, and Headshot joined their squads, Chit-Chat had been integrated into Indigo Squad, who had lost four men. Six-Two and Headshot stood next to each other, with Chaw on Headshot's right and Sev on his own left. They stood just behind Joss, who was rigid at attention. Grizzly paced up and down the front line, eying them with disdain. He was like what a typical Alpha ARC trooper was, according to the few Clone Commandos he had met before they had left Kamino.

"Alright," he barked out. He wasn't wearing his helmet, but his voice ringed out just fine. "This is the plan, boys. First, we move up through the jungle and take a 'civvy' convoy that Intel says is coming this way in a couple of hours. We take what supplies we can, and one squad stays back to hold it. The rest of the company moves up and takes the base, using the escort tanks we get from the convoy," he explained. He made it sound like a stride through the barracks. "Then, once the base is taken, we establish communications with the fleet, and get some artillery down here, unless there's already some in the Sep's supplies," he continued. "Got it?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Good."

The commander picked his helmet off from the ground and slid it onto his head. He marched forwards, the platoons following. Joss turned to his squad for a moment. "Good luck, boys," he said grimly, then turned back and followed. They would need more than luck to finish this mission. They would need their brothers and probably lots of firepower.


	7. Chapter 5

Jungle Region of Farquar,

Hunter Company

Two days after the start of the Farquar

Invasion

It was raining hard when Hunter Company finally stopped marching for the fourth time. Six-Two sighed as he took off his helmet, not caring if rain got onto his face. His bodysuit was water-resistant, and he need the fresh air. Beside him, Ril and Headshot did the same.

"Stang, that air feels good," Ril muttered as he sat down on the muddy forest floor. Joss turned around, his helmet still covering his head. "We're resting for an hour, boys. Then we move out, and no breaks. That insurgent convoy is coming today."

Ril nodded. "Alright, sarge. We'll ready the welcoming committee," he said, grinning. "Chaw had better start getting the caf and cookies ready." The troopers laughed, and Chaw glanced over, removing his helmet. "I hope they like gavag-root flour, 'cause I'm out of the regular kind," he said. Sev nudged him. "With your cooking, we won't even have to attack them," he said. "We just leave your cookies out and let them die of disgust." Chaw rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure you could do so much better," he grumbled. Six-Two leaned back on a tree, calm for now. The squad's constant back-and-forth banter helped relieve the stress of the battle. Chit-Chat came over from where Indigo squad was resting and sat down by Headshot. His friend pulled out something from his belt and broke off a chunk, handing it to Headshot, then took another and tossed it to Six-Two.

"I treat I hooked from the mess," he told them. He looked down at it. It was a piece of sugar cookie, coated with a thin layer of icing. He blinked, surprised. "Master thief now are we?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Headshot smirked. "If you don't want to eat it, Six, then I'll have it," he offered.

He rolled his eyes and took a bite. "You can go help Chaw with his. You like gavag root." Once the cookie had been consumed, Six-Two picked up his helmet and put it on. He leaned back on the tree and closed his eyes. He could use some rest if they planned on storming a supply convoy.

When he woke up, camp had been broken and the company was reassembling into marching ranks. He scrambled to his feet and ran over to where Joss was getting Fang squad together. As the sergeant took attendance, he nodded to Six-Two. "That's all of us," he said. He turned and moved into formation, next to Bravo squad. Commander Grizzly was moving just as they got in. They marched quickly, not stopping for gnarled roots, stones, or mud, in which Sev and Blinds got their boots stuck in multiple times. It must have been two or three hours before they reached a well-worn gravel path that cut through the jungle. The stone had been pushed to the side by something that Six-Two noted looked like a repulser-craft of some sort. Grizzly stopped and raised his finger to the side of his helmet, then turned. A slight hiss came through the comms of his helmet, and Six-Two realized something was wrong. "Stang," the commander cursed. "The convoy already moved up. Their most likely at the Seppie base by now." Even though Indigo squad's troopers blocked his view, he saw Gutter clench his fist. _No tanks. No extra firepower. _That was bad. Firepower would be everything in this assault.

Fogg, a lieutenant who had become Grizzly's second-in-command, walked up and tapped the commander on the shoulder and muttered something on the secure link. Six-Two figured it must have been confidential if they were using that. Grizzly nodded slowly, and turned back to his men.

"Alright, boys," he said, his voice a growl. "We spilt up. Gutter, Tirle, take your platoons around for a frontal assault. I'll stay back with Fogg and Colt and wait 'till you soften up defenses."

Joss turned to the squad's secure comlink. "So helpful he is, you know?" he said sarcastically. "Staying behind with those slackers." He switched back to the open comm. "When do we attack, sir?" he asked like he hadn't said anything else before. "I recommend leaving within the next ten minutes, sergeant." He responded. "Great," Headshot grumbled. "_More_ dying. The perfect way to end the day."


	8. Chapter 6

Vytul Road, 

Farquar, 

One hour later

The two platoons finally stopped as a metallic gleam started to glow through the thick jungle trees. There was a humming noise, too. Six-Two came to the conclusion that it was cannons or speeders. The convoy would have unloaded by now, and that would mean their escort tanks would have joined the main force of Seppies. Stang, this was a death run.

Gutter turned. Even though his face was concealed inside his bucket, his helmet, he could tell the lieutenant was concerned, and probably irritated.

"Okay, Sev, Xil," he said, addressing the former, who was standing next to Six-Two, and the latter, part of Bravo squad. "Get your rockets ready. Once we get a clear view of the base, we'll start the attack with you two boys picking off whatever defenses they have assembled. Once that's done, Fang and Jag squads will storm the place, with the rest of us following. Got it?" There was no familiar 'sir, yes sir,' or 'copy that'. The clones just grimly nodded, and the two rocket troopers got their heavy weapons ready.

They stealthily approached the base, hiding behind trees and sighting up, trying to find a definite position. Of attack. Once they were in range, they would fire and then run towards it, any weapons they had on hand ready. Six-Two popped an EMP, or droid popper, from his belt. They were here to secure the supplies at this fortress, not destroy it, so shutting down the tinnies would be easy. Unless of course there were organic soldiers; then he would unload the regular grenades.

After five long minutes of approach, a clear view could be seen. It was a giant tower, with an tall wall surrounding it. The wall was topped with sharp, durasteel palisades, and every five meters was a turret emplacement. Battle droids and super-battle droids patrolled up and down the wall, and he eve caught sight of some dwarf spider droids. Whatever supplies that the Separatist were hiding here must be some nice stuff, Six-Two thought as he primed his droid poppers. Without turning, Lieutenant Tirle spoke through the comm. "Alright, Sev, Xil. Your cue. Try and hit the turrets, maybe some spiders," he ordered as he loaded his DC-15a rifle. He saw the two troopers nod and get into a kneeling position, rockets ready.

Gutter waited a second before barking: "Fire!" They complied, and the rockets shot out of the weapons, whizzing and crackling. Six-Two saw the droid commander on the wall, ordering his troopers to watch out...

_BAM!_

Missile met durasteel, and there was a huge explosion. Shockwaves rippled through the ground, knocking a few troopers off their feet. "Go, go _GO_!" Joss screamed as he raced forwards, followed by all the other clones. The battle droids had regained their senses and began to fire at the attacking troopers, mowing down a line of Indigo squad troopers beginning to take some ground. Behind him, Ril had swiftly set up his E-web and was tearing up the droid lines. Six-Two hurled his two droid poppers and deactivated six SBDs and a turret.

Beside him, Sev was firing another rocket, and he could see Headshot living up to his name and sharpshooting at the battle droids, taking their heads off with every shot. He unclipped his own decee from his belt and began to take down tinnies, one shot at a time.

Then came the tanks. They rumbled slowly towards the Republic forces, through the giant hole in the wall from the rockets. They were AATs, slow but heavily armed and armored tanks, capable of wiping out a company. _Stang! _He thought as he clipped an anit-armor attachment to his blaster and firing, penetrating the battle droids, but barely denting the tanks. They would need to do better, with more explosives.

"Gutter!" he shouted. "Thermal dets! We need some-" he was cut off. The cannon mounted on the tank fired where he was standing. He felt a hard pressure on his chest, and his sight was hazy. He heard shouts and cries of battle, and the hard, metal-sounding footsteps of the Separatist droids, but was dim. It was darkening, and he was losing consciousness. He tried to stand, and tried to raise his weapon at the super battle droid he saw approaching him. But he heard it's blaster fire and discharge, and he sunk into a silent blackness.


	9. Chapter 7

_**Hello, readers! **_

_**This one's a longer chapter; I just want to let you all know before you read. That's all, so...**_

_**Happy reading!**_

_**-Parker**_

* * *

Captured Separatist Supply Base,

Medical Station

Four days after the start of

the Farquar Invasion

When he woke up, Six-Two was feeling sick. He hadn't yet caught sight of his surroundings, but he could tell he was inside, on some sort of table or bed. That must mean that they had captured the Seppie base, or at least secured some supplies. That was... good, he supposed. But at what cost?

His vision cleared. He could now see that he was in some sort of a medical center, with medics rushing around to the different patients. He saw Chaw among them. _Some of Fang is still alive, then, _he thought. He tried to prop himself up on his right arm, then flinched as it collapsed under his weight. One of the medics, he had forgotten the trooper's name, noticed him up and awake and came quickly over. "Whoa, Six-Two," he said, gently pressing his hand to his chest, forcing the injured trooper to lie down once more. "You've got to rest. Your injury is still healing, even with all the bacta we've applied." Six-Two grimaced and settled himself back in the blanketed medical bed. "What... injuries?" he asked, struggling to speak. Stang, that was bad. The medic blinked, sympathetic. "You got a round through the shoulder, and broke your leg when the tank hit you. You're lucky to have survived, Bravo."

He narrowed his eyes. "Bravo? Is that..."

"Yeah. Bravo; you survived."

"That might get confusing over comm. Gutter could be ordering me, or the squad..."

"Then we could call you Brav. And Gutter's dead. Sorry, _vod'ika." Little brother._

Bravo's eyes widened. "Dead? How...?" he asked, stunned. His lieutenant had hardly _ever_ sustained a shot on Kamino. He had been the likeliest to survive through the whole campaign. Some squads had even started a betting circle to see how long he would last. Most had said he would get out, maybe even survive the war.

_One more brother dead. How many more, after this? _

"He was facing off that tank that knocked you out. Blew it up before it took out any more of us. He died a hero, Bravo," he sighed, then patted his shoulder. "Come on, rest up. Grizzly's having a briefing with all the troopers in three hours, and getting a temporary lieutenant for your lot in place for the duration of the mission." The trooper walked away, and Bravo watched him go, with anger written on his face. Stang, this mission was going to get finished with them either winning or loosing brutally. Right now, he honestly didn't care which. It would end this stream of death either way.

Supply base hangar,

Three hours later

Grizzly walked back an forth in front of his men, hands clasped behind his back. The commander had had a change in appearance in the past day or so. He had shaved his head, giving himself a buzz cut and a stripe through the hair. Across his left cheek he had been given a long scar, running from the base of his nose to the jawline. Chaw had said he insisted on treating in with bacta, but he had refused. And he had tally marks on his armor. Bravo, who had been in the front line, next to Sev and Ril, had no idea what he was counting. Battles? Droids he had killed? His men who had been killed. Anyway, it was an odd thing to do, and he had thirty-two on his shoulder plate. He counted the casualties in his head. _Yeah, counting dead men. Nice and cheery, that is. _

"Alright, Hunter Company, listen up!" he barked, and everyone snapped to attention. "We've got reinforcements incoming, from General Kenobi. He's coming along when we attack the next target, and 2nd Airborne will be attacking from the air, with air support. He'll be with us for the rest of the campaign, but he's got other Jedi business to attend to with his own boys. Until then, we use this base and keep it until the rest of the 212th get here to take the load. Got it?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

_Paratroopers. _

The 2nd Airborne Company was a division within the 212th Attack Battalion, known for their risky but effective tactics, by dropping from the air onto the battlefield. On a more negative note, the paratroopers were known to brag to the infantry troopers about their skydiving feats. They would have to put up with that...

"And, now for the temporary lieutenant," Grizzly's hard gaze swept across the troopers. "Lion, you're in charge of the platoon until the mission in over. Understood?" he addressed Bravo Squad's sergeant, who's green armor had been painted with gold highlights on his helmet and thigh plates. He only nodded. "Understood."

Grizzly moved on. "Dismissed, boys. Get something eat, get washed, get sleep, whatever. We move out in one week," Grizzly said, his voice sounding weary. "That gives us enough time to get ready for the next part." The company broke rank and divided into smaller groups. Bravo- no, Six-Two, he would insist one keeping that name to prevent any confusion between his name and Bravo Squad- sought out his two companions, Headshot and Chit-Chat. He found the latter among a group of Indigo squad troopers heading for their quarters, and he broke away from them to join. They then went to find Headshot, who was cleaning his rifle on a crate at the edge of the hangar.

"Come on, Headshot," Chit-Chat said, hauling their buddy up from his seat. "Let's get some food inside of us, _then_ clean up." Headshot, startled by the sudden approach, dropped his decee.

"Hey!" he protested, brushing Chit-Chat away from him. "I want to get this done, so I don't have to clean at the end of the week," he said, squatting down to pick up his gun.

Six-Two rolled his eyes. "We haven't eaten for a day, Head. C'mon, clean up later," he said, snatching the decee from his hands and setting it on the crate. Headshot sighed and left the blaster, following them. "I don't procrastinate," he muttered as they left the hangar with the blast doors hissing as they opened and closed, giving them entry to the hallway that led to the quickly assembled mess hall. "You never did, _ner'vod_," Chit-Chat said as they reached their destination. "But give yourself a break for once, okay? You push yourself too hard sometimes." Headshot blinked as they went through and found an empty table in the center of the room. The aroma of herbs and fresh meat entered Six-Two's nose. They had taken meat from the base and gathered plants and dead animals from the surround jungle. It was heavenly. They set their buckets down to secure their places at the table and got in the line that was extending fast to the food. They took their trays and waited until it was their turn. The menu was: soup, kaabore steak, unidentified-vegetable salad, and a warra berry pie. He hadn't tried _that_ before. He took a small salad and the vegetable and meat soup, and the largest portion of pie available. Headshot took a steak and pie, and Chit-Chat took soup, two small pies, and the steak. He was hungry, for sure.

They sat down at the table and began to eat in the kind of silence that ensues when food is being consumed. Chit-Chat finished first, as usual, and picked up his helmet. "I'm going to sleep. I'll be out in couple of hours," he said as he walked off. Soon, Headshot followed, saying he would try to clean his blaster without a distraction. Six-Two left soon after, heading back to his bunk in his platoon's barracks.

_They wanted me back in the med ward..._ He thought. Then, without any protest from himself, he fell asleep.


	10. Interlude Two

Clone CC-3323 

Officer's Log

Four days into the Farquar invasion

_Stang, we made it. I'm highly surprised. And we secured the base with minimal casualties. Or, minimal to me. This is a company made of rookies, not seasoned veterans. They think every loss is huge, and that it can never, ever be replaced. Of course, their places and roles can be, but..._

_There will never be another Gutter. Or Wiyo, or Fi, or Nall, or..._

_The list goes on and on. None of them can be replaced,nor can their teammates forget them. I've decided something, though: Neither can I. _

_That's why I've started counting the number of men killed, and the each mark means one man. I still have... hope that I can pull out of here with not many more, and even as harsh as it sounds,that Kenobi's men, those stuck-up paratroopers will do the dying. It's a vain hope, but things seem brighter than the Geonosis days. No trooper can replace the original 5__th__ Armored Brigade, but these men, so alive and full of what I lack, may be able to fill up the void I created at Geonosis. I... hope. This is a hopeful step in the ending of this campaign. _

_Maybe it will end soon, and we can go back to the barracks as _vode an_, brothers all. _


	11. Chapter 8

Captured Separatist supply base

Command office

Seven days after the start of the Farquar Invasion

"You asked for me, sir?" Headshot said as he stepped into the command center of the supply base. It was a large room, with a low ceiling and holotables, showing diagrams, maps, and Seppie battle plans and troop strengths, manned by clones who were engrossed in their work. One of the wall was made of transpari-steel, a window to view the depot outside. When they had captured the base, a full armory of blasters, vibro-blades, tanks, and starfighters had been abandoned by the Seps. They now had the firepower of a fully armed and armored battalion.

Commander Grizzly, who had been watching the troopers in the depot from the window, turned as he heard Headshot enter. "Ah, yes. Headshot, correct?" he asked. Headshot nodded. The commander blinked, then began to speak again. "I have an assignment for you. You received your nickname because of your sharpshooting skills, I assume. Now, I have a good use for them."

Headshot's eyebrow raised. "And this assignment is, sir?" he asked.

"I need a sniper."

"Why, sir?"

"Because," Grizzly said, scowling. "Intel from Kenobi says that a Farquaran militia strike force is en route to here, to retake this fort," he explained. "And an important general is overseeing things. Hednaal Periun. He's one of their strategists, and responsible for the battle plans we're analyzing now."

Headshot frowned. "And you're asking me..."

"To take him out."

"Assassination, sir? Couldn't they call in some commando team for that?"

"Zey has more important things to do than give his men for this. And I need it done fast. They're due here in seventy-two hours."

That was a sobering thought. They had had no attacks in the recent days they had inhabited the base, not even small insurgent attacks.

"How large is the militia force, commander?" Headshot inquired. If he was going to kill someone, he wanted to know how big of a force this guy was commanding. "About a whole regiment. The Seps aren't taking chances here. They want to take this base as quickly as they can. You can stop that if you succeed."

_You. _

Grizzly was basically telling him the fate of the Republic's foothold on Farquar rested on his shoulders now, not his or any of Hunter Company. And also if he wanted Gutter's, Wiyo's and every other clone who had died here's deaths to mean something, that he would have to complete the mission.

Now, he could see the burden that Grizzly carried. The destiny of everyone's lives and fates.


	12. Chapter 9

Captured Separatists Supply Base

Weapons/Vehicles Depot

Eight days after the start of the Farquar Invasion,

1400 Hours

Headshot watched with wide eyes as the companies combat engineers began to test out the rewired Farquaran HMME's, Heavy Manned Mechanized Enforcements, tall, two-legged walkers they called mechs. Niner, the Head Engineer of the company, directed the tests from his perch atop an empty weapons crate. When word of the attack reached him, along with giving Headshot sniper duties, he had given the engineers the task of rewiring, rearming, and upgrading the captured weapons and vehicles in the base. So far, this was the first test of any of the tech.

"Lookin' good, boys," Niner said, making a note on the datapad he held. Headshot, standing next to the sergeant, looked at his over his shoulder. It read: NAVIGATION: WORKS; WEAPONS: YTBT (YET TO BE TESTED); ARMOR... The list of specs went on and on, constantly being updated as new tests were ran through by the engineers. It utterly bored him, looking at the notes, but actually watching the mechs was a different story all together. It was amazing.

"How do you tell their doing well?" Headshot asked Niner curiosly. "If this isn't our tech." The sergeant glanced at him. "We study the technology database, make sure we get the controls, and test it in the field. The only real way to know, though, is to use it in actual combat," he replied. He nodded, and slid down from the crate. His time was running short. He was due for lunch back at the mess, with Sev, Ril, and Six-Two, then he was going to prepare for the mission. He walked away from Niner and his unit, entering the buildings. The blast doors were marked with a hastily painted Republic symbol. The paint was already fading from the tropical weather on Farquar, but it marked it as theirs.

He walked down the long corridors, nearly bumping his head on the ceiling. From what little he had seen of the Farquarans, they were shorter, and all seemed alike. He briefly wondered if they were clones. It might be likely; clones were less expensive: you didn't have to pay them, and they were expendable. That thought made him uncomfortable. That's pretty much how the Republic viewed their clone troopers. He shook it off. Thinking to much made him resentful, and being resentful made him distracted. Distractions got you killed.

"Get up, Head! Get up!" a hiss broke into the troopers disturbed dreams and his eyes fluttered open. It was early. He turned over and glanced at the source of the voice who had woken him. It was Joss. His sergeant's normally carefully brushed hair was messy, strands of it falling into his eyes. "Grizzly wants to see you, Head. Shift yer backsides and get over there," Joss said, his eyes alert. He seemed to be used to waking up so early. With a slow nod, he slid out of his bunk, above Chaw's, and onto the floor. He was still in his black blaster-proof bodysuit, so he went to his equipment locker and clipped on his armor plates. He clipped his bucket onto his belt, along with his decee.

Joss went back to his bunk while he left the barracks. Headshot took a breath. He was going on his first solo mission. He pushed aside his fear, doubts, and own thoughts as he walked into the command center.

It was deserted, except for the commander, who had been sitting on the desk in the corner, drumming his hands on the table. It seemed to be like the same type of desk the Chancellor used, or General Zey, director of Special Forces. His helmet was off, and his typical expression of disdain stretched on his face.

"Headshot. Good to see you," Grizzly said without any cheer in his voice. "I have your position, and more details on your target." He stood up and walked closer to Headshot, handing him a datapad. He looked it over and tried to absorb all the information. It was nearly too much.

He looked back at the commander. "I'm ready, sir. What time does the target reach my position?" he asked, taking his helmet from his belt and sliding it onto his head. "1600, GST," he replied gruffly. "Now get moving. Good luck." Headshot gave a salute and turned away. Grizzly just watched him, his face expressionless. Then he realized how bleak this mission was. Once he killed Hednaal Periun, the Farquarans would be launched into disarray, but they would probably take revenge. It wouldn't be that hard to identify the location of the sniper. Then, if they did find him, they would kill him.


	13. Chapter 10

Farquaran Jungle

Sniper post

1300 Hours, GST

Headshot gazed through his modified Farquaran sniper rifle, and cursed under his breath. This kriffing weapon didn't accommodate the top of a helmet, and especially the fin. Why was that thing there, anyway? He decided Republic Procurement needed to fix that. He really wished he had insisted that Grizzly let him take his decee. He had to remove his bucket, which was the worst thing he felt could happen on this operation. He might not be able to identify Periun, or maybe he would miss all together, and get caught. He had already decided he was not dying so easily: he had three thermal detonators primed on his belt. If they attacked him, he would leap from the tree he was in and press the button. That would take out the entire strike force, he hoped, and then Grizzly wouldn't give him a hard time for not taking out his target. Even if he didn't, he'd be dead anyway, and Niner could try out his mechs on the Seps.

He checked his chrono on his gauntlet. _1343. _He had exactly seventeen minutes until Periun showed, if he decided to be punctual. He looked through the sight again. _Stang, I hope he's not in one of his tanks... _The thought hadn't occurred to him until now. He had no anti-armor attachments, and even if he did it would take two shots. He only had three. He was counting on his sharpshooting to make him only use one. Then he would transfer the ammo into his sidearm and run. He would use the DC-17 pistol he had taken from his equipment and fire back if they identified. After that he would comm the base and have them send out their tanks to destroy whatever remnant of the Farquarans remained.

Time ticked on. It was becoming tedious. He checked the chrono again. _1354. _He hoped they would be early and get this whole op over. It was _annoying_. Patience had never sat with him. It had for Six-Two. His buddy could wait for days on end for a target, without getting bored. He would stay alert, too. That's what had happened on Kamino. They had used live rounds for that exercise, he remembered. That's when he had become impatient, and started to become afraid of war. It had only been a year before they shipped out. His battalion hadn't left Kamino until a month after Geonosis.

A loud cracking sound jolted him out of his thoughts of Kamino and Geonosis and training. He looked up and he didn't need his bucket to see _this_. A line of four tanks crashed through the dense jungle, crushing the damp wood under their repulsor-engines. Behind that, he saw a squad of speeders, all armed and mounted by an armored Farquaran. There was two companies of infantry troopers, who stared ahead. He used the scope to zoom into their faces. They were all grim, but full of purpose, and definitely not clones. Similar, though. Behind them was another squad of speeders, and then there was the command skiff. Even without the bucket, he could tell the man standing on it was probably Periun. He was wearing full armor, minus the standard helmet, and had rank stripes across his torso. He gazed around, with an expression not unlike Grizzly, but more stuck up. To him, he owned all of this, and would not stop until he eradicated all those who opposed his army. Scowling, Headshot placed his hand on the trigger. And fired.


	14. Chapter 11

Farquaran Jungle

Sniper Post

1405 hours, GST

The blaster bolt got Periun in the neck, just under the jawline.

Headshot heard a loud grunt of pain, but didn't wait to see his target fall. Immediately, he slid down from his perch in the tree, ejected the ammo from the sniper and into his decee sidearm, and ran.

He didn't stop for roots, leaves, or even small animals in his way, he just _ran_. Stang, he had left his helmet in the tree. If they had found his position yet, they would know it was a clone who had hit them. _Oh well, _he thought. By the time they were reorganized, he would be back at the base. Or he hoped.

Behind him, the whirr of speeder bikes told him that the Farquarans were looking for him. He thought that was good. Tracking him would lead to them not putting as much force into the attack. And, according to the database on the Farquarans, they didn't have the next highest rank fall into command once their leader was dead; they just retreated. So, he felt he was in the clear.

Headshot raised his hand to the earpiece Grizzly had him take when he left. He tapped it, sending a call to the command center, Lion, and Joss. As he ran, he waited for a response. Lion was the first to answer.

"Headshot?" the temporary lieutenant asked, his voice seeming irritated. "Has the target been neutralized?"

_Just say killed, will you? _Why did being in a higher rank make troopers want to use an overly excessive amount of euphemisms? He didn't know.

"Yes, sir," he replied, halting. It was easier to talk if he was still. "I haven't got confirmation he's dead, but he's down for sure." He heard him grunt on the other end.

"Good. I'll notify the commander that you're on your way," Lion said. Then the comm went dead.

The whirring of speeders came back to his ears, and if he began to run again, he calculated they were too close not be noticed.

He decided to hijack a speeder. That was something Chit-Chat would want to see, he bet.

He clicked the safety on the sidearm _off, _and held it in a ready position. He narrowed his eyes as the vehicles came closer, and closer...

Three speeders flew by, sending clods of dirt and broken wood into the air. In one fluid motion, Headshot had aimed and fired the DC-17, knocking a Farquaran off the second speeder. He ran forward, training overtaking all thought. The riderless speeder slammed into a wurok tree and caused a magnificent explosion. The other two spun around and charged him, targeting him with the speeder's mounted cannons.

Headshot ducked as they passed by, and then righted himself and ran at it. He jumped onto the tail of one of the bikes and grabbed the pilot in a headlock.

The soldier struggled in his grip, and jerked his head back to head-butt him. He heard the crack off bone- his, unfortunately- and turned in a wide arc.

Blood trickled down from Headshot's nose to his lip and he muttered a curse. He pulled the arm he had taken the Farquaran in and heard a clean snapping sound. The enemy slumped over, and Headshot flung him off the speeder and into the lush forest floor. He slipped into the pilot's seat.

_I've got about one second to learn the controls..._

He pushed the joystick he decided was for steering forward and it propelled towards the last bike. The pilot turned around, a pistol in his hand.

_Both hands on the stick, _he thought sarcastically. _Shooting and driving is against the law, chump. _

He dodged the incoming laser bolts and held down the button on the joystick and fired the cannons. They missed, hitting some trees. Gritting his teeth, Headshot pushed ahead and felt a _thump_. He quickly glanced back and saw one of the stabilizing fins on the tail of the speeder had broken off. He must have knocked into a tree. He narrowed his eyes, wishing he had his bucket. Things would be so much easier. He fired once more, this time lowering the speeder closer to the ground so he could hit the fins. The bottom of the vehicle nearly scraped the ground. He fired, yellow blaster bolts whizzing past him and halting as they hit their targets. He heard a cry from the pilot as his speeder went spinning out of control, and eventually hitting the ground. He barely dodged the resulting explosion.

He reached the base within the next ten minutes. By that time, the speeder had been trailing a thin line of smoke from where he had lost his stabilizer. He approached slowly. He didn't want to provoke the base into firing. He had heard accounts of friendly-fire from Geonosis, and none of the tales were pretty.

Patrolling on the wall of the base was Joss, Sev, Six-Two, and Juol. He transmitted a SURRENDER signal from his bike to make sure he would get in, alive.

His sergeant watched the speeder warily and raised his forearm in a signal to prepare to fire. Headshot transmitted a message to him, saying tha was indeed him and not a Farquaran. He waited a few moments and then saw Joss tap the base's gate controls to open the plasma blast-doors.

_Good, _he thought, relieved.

He steered his bike into the depot, where the combat engineers had brought their midday meal out from the mess hall to eat while they worked on the Farquaran technology. At the moment they were inspecting the Juggernaut tanks, heavily armored skiffs with a closed cockpit and a massive cannon placed on top of it. Niner, who was just stepping out of the hatch, saw his damaged speeder and waved.

"Hey, Headshot!" the sergeant called. "Park that over here and get inside and get some food into you," he ordered, and Headshot gratefully complied. He halted the bike a few meters from the tank and stepped off, wiping his brow. Without a bucket or the carefully climate controlled base, it was humid during the day on Farquar. He nodded to Niner and entered the base, heading through straight for the mess.

His meal was quick; Commander Grizzly had ordered to see him once he returned, and he was growing later by the second. Headshot went to the lift and made his way to the command office. The doors parted, and he saw Grizzly drumming his fingers on his desk. He blinked as the trooper came in, and stood. "So, you made it," he said. "I take it Periun is dead?"

"Not confirmed, sir," he admitted. "But I do know I got him in the neck."

Grizzly narrowed his eyes. "Then he probably is. Dismissed," he commanded gruffy. He went back to his desk and picked up a datapad. Headshot gave a salute, then turned and left.

The barracks were deserted when he came, only a few men from Bravo squad playing cards in a couple of bunks. He found his and lay down on top of the sheets. His eyes closed, but he didn't fall asleep for a long while. This mission had tired him out, and killing someone who could attempt to kill you back didn't sit well with him for some reason. He convinced himself that that was the brutality of warfare. It took time until he was finally at peace. Then, he slept for a long while.


	15. Chapter 12

**Hello, readers!  
**

**I'm writing this A/N to you to ask you to vote on the poll I have up on my profile, asking what Clone trooper topic I should write about after Brothers. I have already written most of the remaining chapters for Brothers, and I will be uploading a chapter or two every day. **

**Also, I would like to give one more shoutout, this time to SlySenran0408, for your constant support and advice. It's very much appreciated!  
**

**Now, have fun reading!**

**-Parker**

* * *

Captured Separatist Supply Base Barracks

2232 hours, GST

Nightfall on Farquar was silent, and dark, and dangerous. Beasts roamed the jungles, killing all who came through their realms at night. Fog rolled out of the air and it was so thick that it could suffocate a person. And giant, nightplants came out, and they murdered. All of this did not affect the clone troopers of Hunter Company, safely sheltered inside of their base.

Headshot slammed his fist down on the table, spilling a mug of ale that had the misfortune of being so close to his hand. "Stang, Ril!" he said, taking off his new helmet to drink a swing of his ale. "Since when did you get so good at sabacc?" Ril, who was wearing only his lower-body plates and his black bodysuit, smirked as he shuffled his deck absently in his hand. He had won four rounds so far, and they were at the fifth. The players were: Headshot, Ril, Sev, and Joss. Six-Two had insisted on watching; he didn't like gambling, or cards in general.

"I'm just that good," Ril said, adding up the values of his cards and getting a -22.

"Stang," Joss muttered as he sipped his ale. "You've got to be cheating, Ril." Grinning wildly, the trooper raised up his forearms.

"See? No cheater. You all _wish_ you could beat me."

"Oh, yeah?" Sev said, setting his deck down. "I've got a solid twenty-three. Hand over your creds, _vode_," he said, grinning. He placed his hands out to receive his credit chips, eighty in all. Ril, Headshot, and Joss just stared at him.

Headshot was the first to speak. "You have got to be kidding." But he handed his brother the twenty creds he owed him, from their supply of emergency cash. They had all bet twenty credits each that Ril would win. They had misjudged Sev's ability, though.

Six-Two rolled his eyes as he finished his drink. "This, lads, is why I don't gamble." He pulled a couple of credits from his belt and waved one in the air. "See? I haven't lost any creds yet."

The clones gathered around the table shared a laugh, then resumed their game.

Some Bravo and Indigo men came over to spectate, ale or cookies in hand. They too placed bets on who they thought would win, and toasted to victory and surviving along with Fang squad.

Temporary lieutenant Lion, with Grizzly's consent, allowed a night of 'leave' for the troopers under his command. They had celebrated by raiding the mess hall and having a small celebration in the barracks, then broke off into small groups to talk, gamble, or just fool around. It was probably the best night of the whole campaign. Headshot savored the moment.

"_Kandosii_!" he said, using the Mando'a word that they had picked up from the commandos on Kamino for classy, noble, or awesome. He used it in the last context, as he won the next round. "Ril's winning streak is wearing off, lads! I'd like my creds now, please."

All the betters handed him what they owed, and they continued. Eventually, Ril 'retired', a euphamism for quitting and choosing to spectate. He gave his position up to Shard, one of the Indigo squad men, and placed his bet on Sev for thirty credits. "We'll be broke by the end of the nigh," he had said, grinning.

The night wore on, and they played on, soon ending the game and splitting up into groups to socialize. Some, like Joss, Sev, and Six-Two, went to sleep, while the others talked or arm wrestled.

After a lengthy conversation with Chit-Chat and Vun, Headshot went to sit on his bunk, yawning. Drowsiness had overtaken him, and he was ready to sleep. He unclipped in armor plated from his bodysuit, slipped under the covers, and closed his eyes.

* * *

He awoke to the sounds of screaming and explosions.

Instantly, Headshot was up and in his plates. He glanced around. Something had torn through the walls of the barracks while he was sleeping, and a torrential rain of lasers pelted the clone troopers. He placed his bucket over his head and grabbed his blaster.

"Joss!" he yelled over the noise. "What that stang is going on?!"

The sergeant had dove under a table, the same one they had played sabacc on. "Air raids, Head! Get down!"

He was right: two missiles were streaking towards the ruined barracks. Without hesitation, he curled up under the shattered pieces of what used to be a bunk and shut his eyes, tight. He felt the vibration of the explosions as the missiles hit, and didn't need the comm to hear the screams of agony of the troopers hot by the blast.

Then, his eyes shot open. One voice was significant to his ears, and it chilled his blood.

_Sev. _

He found himself crawling to where he saw his brother, sprawled out on a table, blood gushing from an unseen wound. He dragged Sev- what he hoped wasn't lifeless corpse -off the wrecked table and onto the ground.

Then he saw it, and it made him faint. He had never, ever, dealt with this sort of problem on Kamino, and it had never really crossed his mind in flash-training.

Sev's right leg, from just above the knee down, was missing. It had been cut clean off, and the flowing blood was already starting to stop. It was a horrific sight.

"Chaw!" Headshot screamed for the medic. "CHAW! MAN DOWN! REPEAT! MAN _DOWN_!" he screamed over, and over, and over. He finally stopped, panting. He fell back into a sitting position, his back slumping. He didn't notice when the missiles stopped coming, or when Chaw did come, or when Sev was rushed away to the medical ward, which by some miracle hadn't been touched. His mind replayed the image of that missing limb, over and over again...

Someone finally came and hauled him up. It was Chit-Chat. "_Vode_, it's all right. Calm down. Just... stay calm." Headshot tried. And failed. His eyes were dull by the time he finally did calm down, and he was exhausted. Chit-Chat got him to the medical ward, and left him there. He said they would treat him for trauma. He just stared into the ceiling as they checked him out.

He finally did, though, sleep.


	16. Interlude Three

Clone CC-3323

Officer's Log

_Hope. _

_It always, always, will get crushed in the end. I let my hopes rise, then they got so brutally destroyed. It hurts. Fate hurts. And now I've got fourteen men dead from this kriffing thing, and seven critically injured. Three of which have missing limbs, and in need of prosthetics. I have none of those, and Kenobi can't be reached in time to tell him to bring 'em. _

_I'm hopeless, and my men are beginning to see the same thing I do: A pointless war were it doesn't matter who lives or who dies. Every gets slotted in the end. Some just end up luckier than others, but it's all the same, really. _

_Many of the troopers lost brothers. I haven't really been close to any of my men, besides Fogg and maybe Tirle. It's better for morale of I befriended them, but then that just brings more unwanted pain. I lost one hundred and forty-three friends. They all got slotted, and I'll join them someday, in whatever afterlife there is. But life is pain. That sums it up. _

* * *

**Short, I know, but the next chapter I'll be uploading soon, as in a couple of hours. And it'll be longer, I promise. **

**-Parker**


	17. Chapter 13

Captured Separatist base

Hangar bay

Ten days after the start of the Farquar invasion

If Six-two had to give an award to the most angry clone trooper alive, he would have to give it to Joss. The man was _livid_. His sergeant paced up and down in front of them, his hands clenched into fists. The rest of the squad- or what remained of it -shared the feeling.

Next to him, Headshot was drumming on the crate they were sitting on. His brother was getting good at hiding his tension. If he hadn't been doing that telltale sign of emotion, he could have passed for totally relaxed.

"I'm going to tell Grizzly to shove his orders. He can hire the Farquarans to do it, he could call in a Jedi to do it, but I'm _not slotting one of our own_? Is that clear? That's an order to you lot. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir," they said. Their voices were ragged. But Six-Two was cautious. Directly disobeying a commanding officer's orders was a bad idea, especially one like Grizzly. But he had ordered them to kill any trooper too weak or too badly injured to fight. He said it was because they were slowing down the rest of the company. Lieutenants Tirle, Fogg, Colt, and even Lion had accepted it, reluctantly. But the sarge wouldn't. And neither would they.

A Bravo squad trooper, Gry, scowled. It wasn't just Fang guys here; Indigo and Bravo men had responded to Joss's summons. "Grizzly really wants us to do this. Colt already slotted one of the guys from Colt's boys. Rosse or something." Six-Two's eyebrow raised.

"How'd they react?"

"The sergeant nearly slotted _him_."

There was a moment of silence. A long moment. That was... treasonous. Grizzly was killing his own men. But then, he'd heard clones too critically injured were killed; taken off life support, or injected. At least it was quicker here. But that made him feel guilty. If they could be saved, they should be. It was their... right. A right to live. Every being had that.

"Now, I know what you want to ask: what are we going to do about it," Joss continued after the pause. "Next time Grizzly orders that, I'm going to stop him. With force if necessary. Am I understood? Because if anyone wants to back down, you can. I won't think any less of you. Say 'aye' if you plan on backing down."

The comm channels were silent.

"Well, then," Joss said, starting to grin. All of them were with him. Six-Two was was just wary of the consequences.

Headshot, Chit-Chat, and Falin, an Indigo, had 'borrowed'- he loved the euphemisms the military used sometimes -a datapad that Grizzly had used to record a list of those he planned on executing. The next was one of Fogg's men, and then Sev. A lump came to his throat. He had never been close to anyone besides Headshot in the squad, but Sev was a brother, and a friend. He couldn't just stand by and watch Lion kill him. The execution was set for tomorrow, at 2933, early morning on Farquar. Quick and quiet was what the commander was aiming for. Joss had set up a defense party, made of himself, Ril, Vun of Bravo, Tip of Indigo, and Gry, to stop their temporary lieutenant from slotting Sev. He was still cautious, but he was loyal; it was his duty.


	18. Chapter 14

_**Warning: Some strong language on Six-Two's part in this chapter  
**_

_**-Parker**_

* * *

Captured Separatist Supply Base

Medical Ward

11 Days after the start of the Farquar Invasion

Six-Two was starting to regret this decision. He knew it would be wrong to allow Grizzly to kill the injured, but Joss was treating it like a siege. The sergeant had ordered his men to use whatever extra supplies- crates, bunks, even tank armor, to barricade the medical ward's entrance. They had dragged the beds with patients into the center of the room, with the squads guarding them.

Six-Two checked to make sure his deece was set to stun. Even if they were going to slot a brother, he didn't want to do that to the executioners. That would defeat the purpose.

Even through the blast doors and the massive barricade, the clacking of armor boots was nearly deafening.

"Blasters ready, boys," Joss ordered, checking his blaster settings.

_This is treason. _Six-Two thought, his stomach churning. He didn't want to attack Lion and his execution squad. _What happens after this? _The thought slapped him in the face, hard. What would they do? They could be court-marshaled. They could even be executed themselves. Stang, this was going to end badly-

_BANG!_

The assembled rebel troopers flew back as the explosion blew open the blast doors, sending the barricade flying.

Talor, the sergeant of Indigo squad, was screaming something to the comms that didn't make any sense.

He looked around. Everything was fuzzy. Blasterfire pinged around him.

_Why does this always happen?! _

He reached around in the wreckage under him. He gripped what seemed like a deece. As he lifted it, he saw it was a rod from a tank armor piece. He struggled to stand. A blue bolt grazed his visor. He staggered back, spitting and cursing. He finally stood and blocked a laser. This, he decided, was how the Jedi felt in combat. He pushed himself up, using the wall to support him, then charged a trooper.

_Galle _

He was a Bravo trooper who had been drafted for the execution team. The man raised his blaster and fired. And fired. And fired. Somehow, he didn't feel the shock or the impact of the blaster, even as every single one had hit him in the abdomen. He charged into the trooper and hit him with the rod, hard. And again. And again.

"Wait! Six-Two! STAND DOWN! REPEAT! STA-" Six-Two ignored Joss's desperate command and brought his weapon down to Galle's neck. He heard a clean _snap! _and he fell.

Suddenly, three clones were on top of him, tackling him to the ground. One of them was Headshot. He knocked the rod out of his hand and put him in a headlock.

One of the others- Kad -held a DC-17 pistol up to his chest.

The last man was Lion. The lieutenant had a scar running through his cheek.

"Stand down, trooper," he said dryly, as is he needed to be restrained even more. "Fei, check on Galle," Lion ordered his medic, then turned back to Six-Two.

"Now, you," he said, his face twisting into anger. "And the rest of the insurgents are to be sent to the commander."

What remained of the death squad forced Joss, Talor, Ril, Chaw, Tip, Vun, Chit-Chat, Falin, and Gry to their feet. He realized Headshot wasn't among the restrained. Instead, Headshot was holding him the the headlock. He hadn't noticed that.

Joss, who's green trimmed helmet had fallen off in the firefight, spat. "Traitor," he snarled, not at Lion, but at Headshot. "You promised you would help us! You pro-" One of Lion's men brought his fist up to the sergeant's nose. There was a slight crack, and blood dribbled out of Joss's nose.

Lion scowled. "Take them away!" he barked. They did, dragging the prisoners along through the corridors.

_Listen to your gut. _

It was an old lesson from the flash-training on Kamino. It meant to follow your instinct; if you knew something would end badly, you didn't do it.

His gut had told him to back out of this. He hadn't listened.

* * *

The insurgents were brought before Commander Grizzly in the command center by Lion and his squadron.

The commander had his bucket off, facing the window. When the doors opened, he turned. His mouth was a tight line. His eyes were _blazing._

"And what, sergeant 3782,what do you think you were doing?" Grizzly demanded, clenching his fists.

Joss, his face bloodied from the blow he had received, stared him in the eye evenly.

"Protecting the men you planned on killing..._sir_," Joss said, his voice a hard rasp. Six-Two winced at  
the sound.

Grizzly bared his teeth, just like an animal who was going for the kill would. "You've got more of them dead," he hissed. "And that's on your hands. How do you feel about that?"

Joss didn't reply, but didn't back down. Six-Two watched the exchange with wide eyes. Grizzly was willing to kill the critically injured. How far would he go with Joss?

Commander Grizzly sneered at the sergeant's silence, the unholstered the pistol on his _kama_.

That started them. Lion stepped forward. "Sir, I've got to protest-"

Grizzly ignored him and flicked the safety off on the blaster, and raised the gun to Joss's temple.

And fired.

Joss fell to the ground, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud. There was a sharp gasp to his side, and Six-Two turned his head slightly to see Headshot's stunned face. The trooper glanced at him, and Six-Two let a growl from his throat. If looks could kill, Headshot would be dead, very, very painfully. His 'friend' turned away guiltily.

_He turned us in, _Six-Two thought, feeling betrayed. _Now Joss is dead. _

"Lieutenant, take the prisoners to the brig," Grizzly snapped. Lion, his face sullen, nodded and snapped his fingers. The troopers gripped Six-Two's wrists and shoved him forward. He complied, his thoughts all about revenge.

On Headshot.

* * *

The brig was large. The Seps must have been counting on having lots of prisoners, because the two rows of cells went on, and on, and on, many of them unoccupied. There were some Farquaran soldiers in the brig, but not many.

Lion took the small group of rebels to the end of the row, placing them each in a cell. They were all next to each other; communication was impossible. Six-Two was placed in the third to last cell, in between Ril and Tip. He gave Lion a murderous look as he pressed the door panel, activating a transparent blast door.

The glance the lieutenant returned was one of sympathy as he walked away. Six-Two bared his teeth.

"Save your pity, scumbag," he growled.

Lion didn't reply, only moving down to place the last prisoner. Yes, he would kill Headshot. In a very painful way.

* * *

Being a prisoner gave on lots of time to think. Six-Two's mind was consumed with anger. There wasn't much else he thought about there.

Days passed. Meals were brought. Grizzly gave them small parole hours. They didn't leave the base yet. They were supposed to have moved on days ago. They didn't, not willing to leave any prisoners for whatever Seppies were left.

Six-Two waited for the midday meal. He had calculated the time of when meals were brought, around 1030 hours. Usually it was someone who he didn't recognize. Sometimes it was Lion or a Bravo trooper.

This time, though, it was Headshot.

The trooper pressed the control pad and the door deactivated. Headshot stepped with a meal-tray, then closed the door.

Instantly, Six-Two was on him, grabbing his neck and pressing him against a wall.

"Traitor!" he spat, choking him. "You got Joss killed!" He flung his old friend to the ground and kicked him towards the door. The tray had gone flying.

Headshot scrambled onto all fours, getting a blow from Six-Two's foot to his face as he tried t stand.

"Hold- AGH -on!" He gasped, pushing him away and pressing up against the wall. "I came here to talk," he said, panting.

Six-Two gritted his teeth. "I don't have anything to say to you, Head-_shit_," he hissed. "'Cause that's what your head's full of."

Headshot rolled his eyes, wiping his bloody brow. "Joss isn't dead, _ner'vod_," he said once he had caught his breath. "And we're pulling out of here tomorrow. You're being released."

"Don't you _dare_ call me your brother," he snarled. "I hate you."

Headshot winced. "You know, I'm sorry. Grizzly only set his deece to high stun. Joss isn't dead."

"Get. Out."

"Six, I'm sorry-"

"GET," Six-Two shoved him towards the door. "OUT."

Headshot flinched this time, and deactivated the door from his comm. "I'm so sorry."

Then he left, leaving Six-Two alone.

The prisoner collapsed onto his sleeproll, panting. His eyes were shut tight.

Joss wasn't dead. Who was in charge? Headshot was trying to say sorry. Six-Two still was planning on some way to get revenge, despite everything.

He would _make_ Headshot sorry.


End file.
